


Soon You’ll Get Better

by stephswims



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Cancer, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22844677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephswims/pseuds/stephswims
Summary: Felicity finds a lump on her breast.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 26
Kudos: 137





	Soon You’ll Get Better

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I cope with difficult things by writing. My coworker and mentor was diagnosed with breast cancer, and this is my way of dealing.

He was close. So close. And he knew she was too. It was the way her feet pressed against the back of his thighs, the way her nails dug into his shoulder, the way her breathing hitched. He barely held onto his self-control as he continued thrusting into her using the wall as leverage. He preferred to be in bed. Nothing turned him on more than feeling her writhe beneath him. He also loved when she rode him. And Pearly Gates. If he was actually being honest with himself, he loved every position they tried, which was quite a few. Felicity loved trying new positions, and he loved giving her pleasure, touching and tasting her until she was at his mercy.

They didn’t make it to the bed that night. In fact, they barely made it past the front door. He blamed the pictures she sent him that afternoon and the voicemail she left him as she was trying on lingerie. He didn’t need it. Despite his past playboy days, he didn’t need lingerie or fancy positions. He just needed her. But she enjoyed it, and the only thing he wanted to do was to give her everything she wanted.

His tongue moved to her nipple. His hand moved to her other breast, kneading her soft flesh in the way that always made her moan. His thumb brushed against her nipple mirroring the actions of his tongue. He felt her tense and shudder as her orgasm consumed her. He came after her squeezing her breast. She gasped and tapped his wrist, and he immediately released her, breathing heavily against her chest.

He carried her to their bed like so many times before, worry niggling at the back of his mind. He helped her remove the rest of her clothes before removing his own and slid into the bed next to her. He pulled her body flush against his allowing her cool skin to absorb his heat.

“Felicity?” he whispered, “What was that?”

“Just tender,” she mumbled in her post-orgasm haze. His hand went back to her breast, resting gently on her. His brain was frozen with terror. He knew what he felt. He also knew it wasn’t there last night when her breasts were heavy in his hands as she rode him. He had handled them rather roughly to tip her over the edge, and she wasn’t tender then, and the hardness...the lump wasn’t there.

“Felicity, there’s a...lump.” He could hear the fear in his voice as he pressed lightly in the same spot he had earlier. Her own fingers slid under his to feel the spot he was talking about. He watched her eyes go wide as she felt the same thing he did earlier.

“I’ll make an appointment tomorrow,” she said softly. Her voice didn’t give away any worry or fear, but he could see it in her eyes.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No,” she replied before pressing a kiss to his chest, “it’s probably nothing.”

* * *

He didn’t sleep well that night, and he was distracted at work the next day. She texted to let him know she had an appointment for 3 o’clock, and it was all he could think about. He went from meeting to meeting, but he couldn’t remember anything that was discussed or any decisions made. He was in his 2 o’clock briefing when his phone vibrated.

**Felicity:** Can you meet me there? If not, that’s fine. I know you have meetings all day, and I don’t need you there. It would just be nice. But you don’t have to rearrange anything. Just maybe if you can duck out?

He found himself smiling at her rambling despite the situation. When they started working together years ago, she couldn’t control her ramblings around him at all. As they became friends and she became more comfortable with him, her rambles had stopped. But, they came back occasionally when she was nervous or scared. That thought sobered him quickly.

He excused himself from the meeting and responded quickly, asking for the address. Was it weird he didn’t have her doctor’s address? Is that information he should have? Should they being going to the same doctor? They were married after all. Did married couples usually go to the same doctor?

He drove faster than he should have, getting there ten minutes early. Still, he found her in the waiting room, eyes wide, glasses skewed as she looked up at him. He smiled at her gently as he folded himself into the seat next to her, suppressing his own fear that bubbled to the surface on the way over.

He felt too big as he followed her as she followed the nurse. He crowded the small space of the intake cubicle as the nurse confirmed her family history, weighed her, took her vitals. She smiled at him as often as she could, and he returned it, always, even though he felt like he was intruding in something very private. The nurse led them to an exam room when she finished, handing Felicity a paper gown and reciting instructions that he had trouble comprehending. Whether it was because she spoke quickly or because his mind was filled with worry, he didn’t know. After she stepped out, he helped Felicity out of her coat and untangled the ridiculously large gown as his wife removed her shirt and bra. He watched the goosebumps erupt across her skin as she stepped into the paper, and he wrapped it around her loosely. He helped her onto the exam table, kissing her head gently, wishing they were anywhere but there.

When the doctor came in, he grabbed her hand, for his own selfish comfort. The intruding feeling came back as the doctor confirmed with Felicity her lack of family history of breast cancer and assured her that she did the right thing in coming in.

“Mr. Smoak, can you please take a seat? I’m going to perform a breast exam.” He shared a smile with Felicity and nodded to the doctor as he moved to the very uncomfortable chair in the corner. Throughout their many years of marriage, he had been referred to as “Mr. Smoak” numerous times. He never corrected the offender. It always felt like their little secret.She loved teasing him about it, and he loved her teasing.

He watched as the doctor completely reclined the table. As Felicity laid down, she looked to him and smiled weakly. He could see the unshed tears in her eyes. He winked at her, trying to be supportive from across the room. He watched as the doctor opened her gown, leaving her completely exposed. He was unsure if he should watch, but he couldn’t look away. The doctor raised both of Felicity’s arms above her head and rubbed his wife’s breast in a methodical motion, confirming the spot of the lump, asking about the level of tenderness. He knew his wife got breast exams both from her family doctor and her gynecologist. She had complained jokingly every time, requesting that he touch her after, so she wasn’t traumatized.But it was different seeing it in person. The doctor moved to her armpit, and he could tell from her face that Felicity was trying not to flinch. It didn’t last long as the doctor moved to her collar bone.

“Okay, I’m just going to check the other side,” the doctor said softly as she moved to the other side, leaving Oliver an unobstructed view of his wife. Arms above her head, breasts pert. In any other situation, he would be completely turned on seeing his wife in that position. But here, he tried to swallow down his increasing worry as the doctor started the methodical movements on the other side.

“Just because you feel a lump doesn’t mean it’s cancerous,” the doctor explained as she continued the exam, “Lumps are common in breast tissue. Since you’re young and have no family history, I want you to come back in 6 weeks. It might just be cyclical and formed because of hormones but keep doing self-exams and come in right away if you feel any growth.” Oliver watch Felicity blanch when the doctor said 6 weeks. He felt the same way, but he hoped he hid it better than she did.

* * *

The next couple of days were torturous. They tried to keep their typical routine, but it was hard. He tried to keep her mind occupied. He always had new movies on hand, tried reading with her, tried reading to her. He even went and got a mani/pedi with her. He didn’t try to be intimate with her for those first few days, and maybe that was a mistake. So, he went down on her. It took her a while to relax, even with his catalog of favorite spots and favorite touches, but she did eventually. Her body stiffened in a good way, back arching off their bed, nails digging into his scalp, moans filling their bedroom. The only thought on his mind was her pleasure, ignoring all other feelings and worry.She sobbed after orgasming, pulling him up by the hair, hugging him tightly to her. He rolled his weight off her, pulling her with him, holding her close, and they cried together.

This was their new normal.

She initiated intimacy after that.She told him it was the only time she was not consumed with anxiety. Sometimes, they fell asleep quickly after, both exhausted from the physical exertion and the emotional burden. Sometimes, he held her as she cried. Sometimes, they cried together. Sometimes, he cried after she fell asleep. 

Time seemed to slow in the 6 weeks. The lump was still there. She did self-exams everyday, and she encouraged him tearfully to continue touching her. After all, he was the one who found it.

This time, he drove her to the doctor without her asking. They walked in hand-in-hand. They walked out with prescriptions for a mammogram and a refill for her anxiety medication.

It was another week before her mammogram, another week of waiting. Oliver drove her but had to stay in the waiting room during the test. The hour he waited was torture. He was worried about how Felicity was coping. She took her anxiety medication beforehand. She was taking it more frequently in general. He just wanted to hold her, to tell her it was all going to be ok. And he desperately hoped it would be.

* * *

“The technician said I’d probably need an ultrasound, but Dr. Williams will call with the results,” she whispered once they were in the car driving back home.

They didn’t hear anything that night.

The next day, Felicity got the call along with a referral for an ultrasound. She made the appointment for the following Saturday, so Oliver didn’t have to miss more work. It was eight days away.

“At this point, you’d think I’d be good at waiting,” Felicity joked the night before her scheduled ultrasound, her naked body draped against Oliver. It was the first night they talked after sex without ending up in tears. They didn’t sleep at all that night. Felicity was buzzing with nervous energy, but she was trying to avoid taking her anxiety medication. He took her mind off all her worries, ravishing her body in any way she wanted. He couldn’t fix the problem. He couldn’t make time move faster. But he could take her mind off it.

They spent the rest of the weekend waiting for a call that never came. The ultrasound technician said Felicity’s doctor would call and gave no other information. Oliver started to be hopeful. Maybe, it was benign. No news was good news, right?

The call came on Monday. It came with a referral to a surgeon. She needed a biopsy.

Luckily, the surgeon had a cancellation, so what would have been a two month wait was only three weeks. Then ten days for results.

They couldn’t have sex for three days after the biopsy, and it drove Felicity insane. She was constantly thinking about it, distracted from everything else. She went through the motions of adulting, doing laundry, going grocery shopping, but Oliver could tell she was anxious about the results. On the fourth day, he made love to his wife, leaving her bra on to support the incision site. For the first time since the biopsy, she slept through the night.

She texted him when the call finally came from her family doctor’s office.Dr. Williams wanted to see her in person. She made an appointment for the next day. Another night of waiting, of unknowing. Oliver came home tofind her sobbing in bed. His heart broke at the site. His strong, beautiful wife reduced to tears. He tried to stay positive. They still did not know. But the voice in the back of his head and the feeling in his stomach felt like bad news.

At the appointment, Dr. Williams confirmed. The pathology came back as breast cancer.

Felicity had breast cancer.

His wife had cancer.

She didn’t cry until they got in the car.

He didn’t cry until they got home.

They caught it early. There were good statistics. They would see an oncologist and a plastic surgeon now. More waiting. More appointments. Their life was divided into waiting periods.

The oncologist said with chemotherapy there was a twenty percent chance the cancer would be completely removed. Oliver didn’t think twenty percent was high enough.

The plastic surgeon recommended a double mastectomy due to the probability of reoccurrence. He had agreed with Oliver that chemo wouldn’t remove the cancer completely. He could remove the cancer completely and reconstruct her breasts during the same surgery, and Felicity horrified Oliver at the suggestion that she could get an “upgrade.” He loved her just the way she was, especially the way she was.

She still might need chemo, but they would determine that after she recovered from the surgery, which would take four to eight weeks. Overall, her prognosis was good.

More waiting.

They both took leave of absences from work for her surgery. It came too slowly and too quickly all at once. Oliver felt the same during the surgery. Six to twelve hours was the given timeframe. Oliver sat in the waiting room the entire time, fingers rubbing together. Felicity had packed him a thermos of coffee, a water bottle, and snacks, her tablet, and some sports magazines. Even with cancer, she was still thinking of him, taking care of him. He was alone. They only told the required people and downplayed the seriousness.

He cried each time a nurse came to update him. Everything was going as expected, and he felt relief for a brief moment of time before worry crashed over him again and he sank into his chair, head in his hands.

He cried again when he was finally able to see her. She was groggy and in pain, but she smiled and that was all he needed to know she was ok. The cancer was physically removed along with all of her breast tissue.Her breasts were reconstructed, though he didn’t care about that. He just wanted her healthy, by his side until they grew old.

He kissed her hand, tears blurring his vision as she drifted into sleep.

Everything was going to be ok.


End file.
